The End
by TehNicksterBoi
Summary: The single second it took to read the message, was the same second that changed his life forever. The same second that triggered The End.
1. The End

_"Living is the slowest, and most painful form of dying." -Me_

* * *

**_"I think we should break up."_**

These were the words in the text that essentially ended Percy's life. He dropped the controller he was using, but he kept his happy face on so he didn't alert his friends. He was hoping to fix whatever was wrong.

"Please don't even joke about that." He responded. Annabeth liked to mess with him sometimes, but he usually didn't find breakup jokes funny.

"I'm not joking." Came the response. His heart missed several beats, and he read on. "I feel like all you care about is sex." Percy nearly wanted to break out in insane laughter at that statement. They'd never even had sex! They'd talked about it, but it hadn't happened. But Percy wasn't that type of guy, he was loving and caring and could care less about having sex. It was about what she wanted was his reasoning. He typed out his response.

"I don't care about sex! You know I'm not like that, I love you!" His fingers never moved faster. Maintaining this happy façade was getting tougher by the minute. Jason would notice any minute now. The response buzzed in.

"That's what they all say." Was what the message read. Percy got off Jason's couch.

"I've gotta go home and play with my dog." He said. Jason nodded.

"That's cool. We have three months. See ya man." He said.

Summer had just began, school had only just gotten out. Percy walked out of the house, and got on his bike. He put extra effort into the pedaling. He had to resolve this situation. Annabeth was his only reason to live, and that wasn't an exaggeration. He could barely tolerate his other friends, let alone Jason. He didn't have a good relationship with his stepdad. His mother had died during his childbirth. What was left? Annabeth. And their relationship had quite literally just begun. He had only asked her out several days ago. He was happier than he had ever been. She had left her boyfriend for him. The reason, was quite ironic. He had only loved her for sex. And now Percy was being accused of the same thing, something he wasn't guilty for. _Where's my fucking jury?_ He thought. He arrived at his house. His stepdad was out until late at his job. He had the house to himself.

He could barely breathe. He was panting so fast, his heart racing. He whipped out his phone.

"Annabeth baby, please I don't care about the sex…!" He sent it. A moments later, he received his response.

"Don't. Call. Me. Baby. Delete my number, leave me alone." Percy's heart cracked.

He collapsed onto the ground in a heap, not caring what happened to him. His eyes flicked to the island table in the middle of the kitchen. His eyes rested on the knife holder. On impulse, he got up, and grabbed the handle of a knife, and brought it out of the wooden holder. The blade gleamed in the sunlight coming through one of the kitchen windows. He brought the blade down to his left arm. He hesitated for only a moment before the knife began biting into his flesh. He could feel the blade separating his skin, but he felt no pain. The blood began to quickly well. There it was… there was the beautiful stinging sensation he had forgotten all those years ago…

He wiped off the knife, and stuck it back in the holder. He grabbed his phone and slowly trudged up the stairs to his dark room. His phone went off. He didn't really care who it was, he just enjoyed seeing the blood run down his arm. He sighed and checked it anyways. It was Thalia. It was quite the message,

"You need to cut the crap and stop. What you're doing is absolutely nothing and it's not going to get you Annabeth. No girl wants a guy who's going to kill himself if you stop liking him. Someone is going to love you, and you have to wait until that person comes." Percy laughed._ I am cutting the crap._ He said in a rare moment of wit. He responded.

"Whatever… accuse me all you want you hypocrite… you've never been kissed, let alone been in love… and how many scars are you hiding…?" He hated her so much. He didn't think he could feel all that hate, but there it was. The response came in.

"No I haven't been, and I hide too many scars. I'm not ashamed and I'm not proud because I fought my battle and this isn't about me. It's about you. The cuts only relieve your pain for a few minutes, then it's all back. You need to find an anchor and hold onto it. Let them clot up. Stop creating new scars before the old ones have had a chance to heal." Percy typed his response.

"Maybe I LIKE the pain, and all the blood… perhaps I go and continue my activities…" He sent it. And he did enjoy the sting that he missed from all those years ago. The blood was a gorgeous shade of red…

"Stop manipulating people. This whole, "I'm going to die without you." Isn't cute and it isn't going to make Annabeth ever like you. She liked you before, she could like you again, but this is weighing on your relationship like a tank on a cloud." He lost it then and there. He wished she was with him, so she could feel the full force of his anger and depression.

"THERE IS NO FUCKING RELATIONSHIP DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT BECAUSE I DON'T THINK YOU DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW SHE FEELS? HOW D OYOU KNOW HOW I FEEL? YOU DON'T! SHE THINKS I ONLY WANT TO FUCK HER! DO YOU KNOW HOW WRONG THAT IS?! NO!" He barely even punctuated it properly, and then he sent it. The response came after a little bit.

"I KNOW HOW SHE'S FEELING BECAUSE SHE'S FUCKING TEXTING ME RIGHT NOW TELLING ME THAT SHE'S TERRIFIED FOR YOU. AND I KNOW BECAUSE SHE SPENDS HOURS AT MY HOUSE TELLING ME ALL ABOUT HOW SHE FUCKING FEELS. SO YES I DO KNOW HOW SHE FEELS AND RIGHT NOW YOU'RE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT OF HER AND SHE DOESN'T LIKE THAT. AND I KNOW HOW SHE FEELS ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE SHE FUCKING TOLD ME IT WAS OVER BECAUSE YOU WANTED HER FOR SEX. I KNOW A LOT MORE THAN YOU THINK SWEET CHEEKS BECAUSE I CAN FUCKING PROMISE YOU THAT WHATEVER YOU'RE FEELING I'VE FELT TOO." Percy didn't know that Thalia could get that angry.

"I don't care about the sex… I'd choose being a virgin forever if I could be with her… but it doesn't matter… nothing does… just leave alone…" He typed, and sent it.

There was no response, so at least she was leaving him alone. Outside, it had begun to storm. It didn't feel like an ordinary storm, it seemed to be fueled by Percy's depression. The rain pounded in torrents against the windows of his room, thunder boomed, and lightning flashed. He drew back his curtains and gazed out the window. Waves of depression were racking him from head to toe as he considered death. He didn't have enough time for suicide right now; his stepfather would be home soon. But tomorrow… he had the whole day for himself, and if he couldn't do it then, then at least he'd have some more cuts to make.

After all, Jason had made a good point. Three months was a long time, time in which a person could get a lot done…


	2. Aftermath

He opened his eyes to the always dark and cold room. He awoke in the same manner, coming out of his sleep right before the hands throttled him. And it had been this way ever since The End. Sleep, nearly die, awaken, and keep realizing what's been lost. And every time he woke, he would look at the tingling scars on his arm. He had never let them heal. They served as a reminder, to never have feelings of love or attraction to anybody again. But he had been fucked from the start.

In the beginning, he had never wanted a relationship. Why, you may ask. A young child being raised in a house with fighting parents never helped. His birth parents had eventually divorced and remarried. But then, the boy's mother and stepfather began to fight. He would always hide under the stairs, listening to them yell, and curse each other. He didn't know why they stayed together. Perhaps divorces were a long process. Perhaps they both loved the boy. The boy didn't love his stepfather. He loathed him. He was always hurting his mother with spiteful words. These events began to lay the foundation for the boy's hatred of "love".

The boy read a lot. He read all kinds of novels. Ones about magic, dragons, knights… everything interested him. But for some inexplicable reason, he was drawn to romance novels. Of all the things, this is what he loved to read. He would read about men going to exhausting lengths to get, or save their loved one from danger, or others. It intrigued the boy. _Would a man actually do this for his lover? Would he go so far as to find her if she was on the other side of the world? Would he fight off attackers and defend her life? Would he die for her? Good always seems to prevail, and love wins over hate._ But then the boy would put the book down. And he would remember that it was only a story. Since when has storybook romance ever been realistic? He would often ask himself that question. Then he came to the answer. It never was real.

* * *

The boy grew up. He went to school, he biked around his neighborhood, and generally tried to avoid people. But in a school, that was usually difficult to do. He hated school. All the moronic children jammed into one building. He had to watch, and endure bullies, asshole children, the looks of the other kids as he passed by… childhood was definitely the time when humans were cruelest. He had in total, maybe two friends that he could talk to. But they couldn't understand him. Nobody could.

Then she came.

* * *

She was amazing. She was beautiful, funny, caring, and smart. What more could a guy ask for? The boy was questioning his earlier answer about storybook romance. He felt as if he _would_ do anything for this girl. The longer he stayed around her, the more he began to come out of his shell. She was an amazing friend. But she was only that. A friend. He struggled to remind himself of that, of his promise not to love. One day, he could bear it no longer. He confessed to the girl he had feelings for her. The girl had no idea. She knew of his "no love" promise, and was therefore shocked by his confession. After a little while, they were together and the boy was never happier. Then out of the blue, The End started. He was slammed by wave after wave of sadness and pain. The three months began. He never let the cuts on his arm heal. They were the reminder.

* * *

He lay awake, listening to the whirring of his fan, and the godly sound of Tim McIlrath's singing came from his iPod speakers. All the lights were out, and the curtains were drawn. It was about one in the morning. He couldn't sleep. He was too afraid of what would visit him in his dreams. _Does she lose sleep over this…?_ He thought to himself. _No… probably not…_

* * *

He sat up in the same room. Same darkness. Same cold. Same suffocating silence. He slumped back down on his back. His neck touched something wet. Percy looked at his pillow.

It was soaked in tears.


End file.
